Bewitched
by TwiAddictAnne
Summary: She was his only friend. She was the laughter of his childhood. And then she was gone. Will he ever find the love that was lost? Or was it all for naught? A love story as old as the times. 18th Century DukeWard. All Human. Canon couples. Rated for language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Aside from any and all recognizable characters, everything else belongs to Anne Publishing House.**

 **A/N: So this one has been stuck in my head for a few years now. But I've always lacked the right motivation to turn this giant of a plot bunny into a fic. Until now. So, here I am, welcoming you to take this journey with me with this story written for my one and only fanboy, Granpa H.**

 **Just a head's up, this is not a history book. So even though I've tried to stay as true to historical facts as possible without doing much research, be warned that I've taken a lot of liberties in this fic. So let's us enjoy this ride, shall we?**

 **A special thanks to FangirlinGranmaDee for doing the beta reading for this fic.**

* * *

 **Chapter-1**

* * *

18th Century, Carlisle Castle, England.

* * *

"Edward, dear, what are you doing?"

The little boy turns around just in time to find his mother in the doorway. "Nothing, Mother," he responds quickly.

Esme Cullen, Duchess of Carlisle, looks behind her son and smiles softly. "Were you watching your friend, dear?"

He quickly shakes his head and murmurs sadly, "She is not my friend, Mother."

She frowns at his tone of voice. "What is it, dear? You look upset," she observes.

His lower lip pulls outward in a pout as he looks down and out of the window. "She does not know me, Mother. How can we be friends then?"

Esme comes to stand beside him and follows his gaze, her eyes quickly finding a little head of neatly braided brown hair bobbing around in her garden. She sees the little girl in a red frock emerge from behind a bush then; a branch of rosemary clutched in her hand like a trophy.

The little girl smiles at the branch in her hand, and Esme sees a smile perk up on her son's lips at the sight.

Then the girl starts making her way out of the garden with the rosemary still in her hands.

Esme hears a sad sigh leave Edward. She turns to him and places a hand on his head, getting ready to say something to pacify him when a huge smile breaks out on his face. Looking out the window, Esme sees the little girl looking up at them, a smile on her face.

She waves at them, and hesitantly, Edward raises a hand to wave back; both of them smiling at each other before the girl runs out of the garden.

Looking back up at his mother, Edward grins. "She likes me, Mother."

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, it starts as a flash-fic, but the chapters will get longer as we progress. Being a shorter-chaptered fic also means you'll get daily updates for this one.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	2. Chapter-2

**A/N: Hi, guys! I am immensely humbled by your response to this fic of mine. I hope you enjoy reading this as much I did writing it. :)**

 **Thank you FangirlinGranma Dee for being an awesome beta. Love you. xo**

* * *

 **Chapter-2**

* * *

Near the Anglo-Scottish Border, Later That Day

* * *

"Isabella, where have you been, my darling?"

The little girl runs toward her mother, the skirt of her little frock bunched up around her thighs to hold the treasure she has found for her mother.

"Mama!" she calls out before running into her mother's arms. "Look what I found."

Reneé Swan takes in the dried mud smeared on her daughter's rosy cheeks and then looks down at her skirt. "What are those?" she asks.

Isabella loosens her grip on her skirt and lets her mother look at her trove. "I found rosamaria."

A soft chuckle escapes Reneé. "Rosemary, you mean?"

Little Isabella pouts. "I like saying rosamaria."

Her adamant voice makes her mother admit defeat. "All right, 'rosamaria' then. Where did you get them? They don't grow nearby," she asks with a frown.

Isabella vaguely points somewhere over her shoulder. "In the garden," she answers. "They have loads of it in there."

Reneé gasps, looking scandalized. "Isabella Marie Swan," she says sternly. "Tell me you did not steal these plants from someone's home!"

Rolling her eyes at her mother, Isabella corrects her. "Not home, Mama. I took them from the garden." When her mother's eyes narrow at her, she knows she is going to be taken to book for rolling her eyes. So she hurries to add, "Besides, I did not _steal_ them. I took them from my friend."

"Your friend?" Reneé is taken aback by her daughter's admission. After the great battle that claimed her husband's life, she has been her daughter's everything—mother, father, and best friend.

Isabella looks nonplussed by the question in her mother's voice though. "Of course," she replies happily. "He smiled at me. He is my friend."

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review?**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	3. Chapter-3

**A/N: You guys are beyond awesome. Thank you for your support for this story. :***

 **FangirlinGranma Dee is the one who worked with my neurotic ass on this as my beta. :D**

* * *

 **Chapter-3**

* * *

Carlisle Castle, England, A Few Weeks Later

* * *

Edward watches as she walks or rather, stumbles through his mother's garden, going from one bush to another.

Something about her demeanor strikes him. She does not look like her usual self. Edward has watched her many times to know the usual spring in her feet. But today, today he does not see that. He wishes he could see her face. Most days, he could speculate what she is thinking just from watching her; but not today. Today, that chance eludes him because she keeps her head down as she searches through the garden for whatever herb she needs.

 _Look up, please_ , he silently pleads with her as he watches her get to the edge of the garden.

Then, as if she has heard him, she looks up at his window. Edward watches as she blinks and a teardrop races down her cheek.

One look.

One look at her desolate face is enough to unravel him. He quickly rushes out of his rooms and toward the gardens.

When he reaches the girl, she is at the fence marking the border of the manor. "Wait!" he calls out, making her stop in her tracks.

Slowly, she turns to face him, the tears falling steadily down her cheeks. "What is wrong?" he asks. "Why are you crying?"

She shakes her head, not speaking.

He reaches out to take her hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. "I am Edward," he says. "What is your name?"

"Isabella," she answers in a small voice.

"Will you tell me why you are crying?" he asks again.

"I shall tell you tomorrow," she whispers before letting go of his hand and running back down the way he has always seen her go.

"Tomorrow then … Isabella," he whispers in the empty garden, hoping that the next day he will have a chance to ask her to be his friend.

Little does he know that this is the last time he will see her … that the promised tomorrow will never come.

* * *

 **A/N: You better fasten those seatbelts, people. ;)**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	4. Chapter-4

**A/N: Hi, guys! *waves* Thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites. I'm glad you are enjoying this story. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter-4**

* * *

Carlisle Castle, England, Ten Years Later

* * *

"My Lord!"

Edward, the Duke of Carlisle, turns around to face Jessica, his mother's lady's maid. The deep frown on the elderly woman's face only manages to increase his agitation even more. "Yes?"

"My Lady ..." she says in a somber voice. "There is no improvement in her health. She is still very weak, my Lord."

Edward feels helpless at her words. He wishes his father were still alive so that the news of his sudden demise would not have affected his mother this way. "Has the healer finished looking over her?"

Jessica nods. "Even he was at a loss as to what must have happened to her Ladyship. I fear ..."

"Yes?" he prompts when she stops mid-sentence.

"I fear that my Lady has simply lost the will to live without her Lord."

A sigh escapes him as he is taken back into a time when he was under his father's wings, sheltered from all the realities of life.

"My Lord, please excuse me. I must go and tend to my Lady," Jessica says.

"Of course." Then a sudden thought crosses his mind and he adds, "Please send someone for Sir Whitlock."

Maybe … just maybe there is a way to save his mother.

* * *

By the time the footman announces Sir Whitlock, Edward feels like he has worn out the ground with his pacing.

"Jasper, my friend," he greets the fair-haired knight warmly. "Please come and have a seat."

With a bow, the knight takes the proffered seat. "My Lord."

Edward shakes his head in distaste. "None of that, please. I have summoned you here as your friend, Jasper, not as your liege."

Smiling at him, Jasper nods. "Then tell me, my friend, how are you?"

"I do not think there is a simpler way of answering you than this; I am in hell."

Jasper's eyes widen at his declaration. Letting go of all pretense of civility, he clasps his friend's arm and asks, "Edward, what is it? What is wrong?"

"It is my mother," he answers. "She is very ill, and even the family healer does not know what it is that is ailing her." After a pause, he adds, "I know about Alice."

At the mention of his wife's name, Jasper's face darkens as he looks away. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Jasper," Edward says, grasping his friend's hands. "We have been friends forever. We learned to fight together. We were knighted at the same time. You are like a brother to me. Please believe me, I shall not tell anyone about Alice's abilities. I promise not to let any harm come to her. Just please, help me."

Jasper closes his eyes as a look of pain crosses him. "You know that if the church knows about her they will …" he is not able to finish his words, when Edward starts to nod. "I know. But she is a seer, is she not? I need her to help my mother. Please, Jasper."

Slowly opening his eyes, Jasper meets Edward's pleading ones and nods. "I shall bring my wife here then."

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **Don't forget to check out the blog I've started with Shae Maen for book recs, fanfic recs and a weekly flashfic from me. ;)**

 **. .**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	5. Chapter-5

**A/N: Hi, before we dive into this chapter, I have a few housekeeping things to address.**

 **First off, their ages. I pictured Edward as 11 and Isabella as 8 in the beginning. So that will make them 21 and 18 respectively at this point of the story. Edward is a young duke who had to grow up quickly to take on his responsibilities after the death of his father.**

 **Secondly, I have mentioned it in the first chapter, but I am sad to say I find that I have to say this once again.** **This is not a history book. So even though I've tried to stay as true to historical facts as possible (which apparently isn't much) without doing much research, be warned that I've taken a lot of liberties in this fic. So please let's just enjoy this ride.**

* * *

 **Chapter-5**

* * *

"Sir and Lady Whitlock, My Lord," Benjamin, his footman announces, breaking Edward's concentration from the book in his hand.

Edward stands up from his seat in the parlour to greet his guests as Lady Alice Whitlock breezes into the room on her husband's arm.

"My Lord," she greets him with a small curtsy. "How are you?"

Smiling at the beautiful woman who had managed to win his best friend's heart, Edward bows his head. "Lady Whitlock, it is a pleasure to see you again. I am afraid I cannot say that I am too well however. It is my mother, you see. She is very ill."

Raising a hand to cover her shocked expression, Alice enquires, "What ails the Duchess, my Lord?"

Edward lets his eyes flit to his friend to catch Jasper's nod as a signal. Then he turns his eyes to Alice and answers, "I was hoping _you_ would be able to tell us, actually. The healer has no idea what it might be."

For a moment, he worries that Alice will feel offended by his straightforwardness, but instead, she smiles, shaking her head a little. "You look like you are waiting for me to cast a lightning bolt on you, my Lord," she teases with a soft laughter. "I know that my abilities are not unknown to you. However, I must warn you that this is not an exact science."

With a frown marring his forehead, Edward asks, "Whatever do you mean?"

"There are no rules or reasons behind this, my Lord," she explains. "However, I shall give my best effort to help the Duchess." She looks at both men and adds, "May I be excused to go and have a look at her Ladyship?"

* * *

When Alice descends the stairs that lead from his mother's quarters, Edward knows something is wrong.

The look on her face is one of a deep sadness that makes him close his eyes in dread.

Jasper is the one to break the silence when she joins them again. "What is it, Alice? Did you see anything?"

Nodding, she reaches to place a hand on Edward's arm, squeezing it softly. "She has the consumption," she whispers, her voice shaking a little.

"Impossible!" Edward cries out, dislodging her hand and walking away from them to the other side of the room. "It cannot be! If it was the consumption, the healer would have sensed it."

"My Lord," Alice says sadly. "I am only telling you what I saw. It is of a rarest form of the ailment. I sensed it was in her bones. Jessica, her lady's maid, said she has been complaining of hurting with every movement. I suspect that is the consumption's doing."

Edward feels a sudden urge to cry out, to break something … to beg Alice to take back what she just revealed. However, even he knows that her words make more sense than he wants them to. Leaning his head against the mantlepiece, he sighs. "So that is it then? She is just going to … fade away? There is no treatment for consumption, is there?"

Even though he means the question as a rhetoric, Alice answers him. "There might be something we can do."

Snapping his head back to look at her, he asks, "What?"

"I have heard of a healer who has what people say to be … magical hands," she says hesitantly. "She is said to possess the power to heal any sickness."

Feeling like he has been handed a talisman to help his mother, he asks eagerly, "Where can I find this healer?"

A sadness comes across her face as Alice shakes her head. "I do not know. I am sorry. All I know is that she lives in the land of the Scotts."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review?**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	6. Chapter-6

**A/N: Hi! As some of you have been asking, the term "consumption" was most commonly used to refer to tuberculosis.**

 **Thank you for your support on this story. I truly appreciate it. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter-6**

* * *

The graying strands of hair framing her sleeping face make her look older than he knows her to sorrow lines make her look like she has aged a decade in the last month. However, it is the look of pain that makes his eyes sting with unshed tears.

Placing the freshly plucked flowers on her bedside, he sits next to her and takes her hand in his. "Mother," he whispers. "Please do not leave me. I promise I will find the cure for you by any means necessary."

The sound of movement just beyond the threshold of the Duchess's bedchamber makes him look away from his mother to find Jessica standing there.

Seeing that she has his attention, she says softly, "My Lord, your men have arrived."

Edward leans down to place a kiss on his mother's hand and stands up to meet his men, hoping they had been successful on their mission.

* * *

"My Lord, I am sorry, but I have not been able to locate the healer," Sir Crowley, one of his knights responds to his questioning gaze with regret. "I travelled as far as the borders of the Scottish Lowlands, but no one has heard about a healer like you described."

Samuel, another one of Edward's knights, steps forward. "Sire," he starts. "If I may be so bold, perhaps the source of intelligence from whence you learned about the existence of such a healer might be faulty. It is not unheard of to find some scoundrel trying to take benefit of one's despair."

Anger at his knight's implications makes Edward clench his jaw to keep from screaming out in frustration. "Samuel," he says in a controlled voice. "I assure you that no matter how lowly you think of your liege, I am not a simpleton to be swayed by the words of a miscreant." He watches as Samuel's face pales at his words and the older man opens his mouth to speak, but Edward continues talking. "I appreciate the service you have rendered to first my father and then to me, but I want it known that I trust the source of the information implicitly. Have I made myself clear, Sir Samuel?"

"Ye-yes, My Lord," Samuel mumbles with a bowed head.

Looking around irately at the men assembled in front of him, Edward roars, "Now, have not any of you found this healer?"

"My Lord, please, may I?"

Edward turns his gaze onto one of his most trusted knights, Sir Emmett McCarty, and nods.

At his permission, Emmett steps around Samuel and comes to stand before Edward. "I went toward the Highlands."

"Highlands?" Edward exclaims. "The Highlanders are said to be dangerous, Emmett."

"I know, My Lord," Emmett answers. "But Duchess Esme has been like a mother to me when we were growing up, and I felt it is my duty to try my absolute best to aid her any way I can."

"And?"

"And even though I have not found a healer, I heard about a _Draoidh_."

A frown appears on Edward's face. "A magician?"

"Yes, Sire. There are words of her powers and how she can heal any disease with meager herbs and such."

"Did you meet her?" Edward asks eagerly, looking behind the men, half-hoping to find the fabled lady there. "Did you bring her with you?"

Shaking his head, Emmett responds, "No, My Lord. I did find her house and her apothecary, but she was not there. Her helper said that she was away on a trip to collect more herbs for her practice. I proposed to wait for her return, but was refused. I have been told that the _Draoidh_ does not travel to see her patients."

"Then how ...?"

"The patients go to her, you see."

Letting out a huff of frustration, Edward remarks, "But my mother is not strong enough for the journey!"

When none of his knights pose an answer for him, he looks Emmett in the eyes. "Take me to her."

"My Lord?"

"I give you one hour, Sir McCarty." Edward casts a challenging look at his men, daring them to contradict him before saying, "You, Sir Crowley and Sir Whitlock will accompany me to the Scottish Highlands. I shall see how the _Draoidh_ refuses to come."

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **I know you guys wish for longer chapters, but with daily updates, it's going to be 700-1000 words each chapter.**

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	7. Chapter-7

**A/N: To those of you who are fasting, Ramadan Mubarak! And to everyone else, have a safe and pleasant week ahead. :)**

* * *

 **Chapter-7**

* * *

Scottish Highlands

* * *

Placing her hand over his mouth, she wraps the other hand around his arm and pulls hard. With an audible click, the dislocated bone slides back into the joint, and he screams, the sound barely muffled by her hand.

She whispers words of reassurance to his ears as she almost cradles the little boy in her arms, waiting for him to calm down. Once the tension leaves his body, she makes a sling for his arm and binds it tightly so he will not be able to move it.

"Now, Douglas," she says in a chastising tone. "I do not want to see you climbing any trees anytime soon; or you will hurt your arm even worse, all right?"

The boy nods emphatically. "Yes, Mistress Isabella," he mumbles.

Smiling down at him, she ruffles his hair affectionately. "Good lad. Now go before it grows dark out."

He slides down from his stool and starts to walk toward the door to her apothecary before stopping and running back to her. "What is it, laddie?" she asks, leaning down to face him. Without answering her, he plants a sweet kiss on her cheek and grins. "It does not hurt anymore. Thank you."

As she watches the boy run outside, she smiles. This is the best reward for her work.

* * *

"Isabella!"

She looks up from her workstation at the sound of her friend's voice. "Rose! It is good that you are here. Will you please help me with this salve?"

Taking off her cloak, Rose comes to stand next to her, reaching for the pestle in her hand. Isabella begins chopping the herbs into fine pieces for Rose to crush and asks, "How is your sister doing?"

"Better, thanks to you," Rose answers. "She said she does not feel any pain from the birthing anymore."

"That is good news. And your wee nephew? Is he doing good?"

A smile comes over Rose's face at the mention of the bairn. "Oh yes," she says happily. "He has made his tummy all round from feeding."

Isabella laughs at her description of the babe. "That means he is going to be a fine lad," she remarks.

For a few moments there is silence aside from the thunk-thud of the mortar and pestle before Rose speaks again. "There is something I wanted to tell you though."

Isabella looks up from her work and notices the crinkle on her friend's forehead. "What is it, Rose?"

Rose's beautiful face turns into a grimace as she answers, "Father Aro. He came to bless wee Alec and ..."

"And?"

Sighing, Rose continues, "Old Sue, Janie's mother-in-law, told him about how you helped her deliver the bairn with very less pain. He said it is unorthodox for a mother to give birth without pain. He says Janie should have to feel the pain to pay for Eve's original sin."

"What bollocks!" Isabella swears loudly. "He is getting too old for his job, I figure."

Rose giggles. "Do not let anyone hear you curse like that."

Rolling her eyes, Isabella says, "Yes, heaven forbid, a woman dares to speak her mind! Father Aro's eyes will jump out of his head."

Both ladies bursts into peals of laughter at the thought. It is at that moment when a shadow casted by several armed men darkens their threshold.

One of the men steps forward and says, "Isabella Swan, we have a summons for your arrest."

* * *

 **A/N: So … that's the healer for you. ;)**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **As requested by a very dear friend, from now on, you'll have a small teaser of the next chapter. Here's the teaser for tomorrow -**

 _ **He points toward the door of the house. "The entrance is through there," he says. Nodding, Edward gets off of his horse and starts to walk in that direction, prompting his men to follow his footsteps.**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	8. Chapter-8

**A/N: Just so you know, we're halfway through this story. So have fun reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter-8**

* * *

Scottish Highlands

* * *

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. _The air does not smell different here_ , he thinks. He opens his eyes to look at the watch tower that marks the border separating his country from that of his enemies.

For a moment, his mind goes back to when he told his mother of his plans to travel to the land of the Scotts. Duchess Esme had clung to her son's hands, pleading with him not to do so. "Do not leave me like your father did," she had said.

Edward lets out a sigh. Yes, this is the country where his father breathed his last, trying to defend their King. Edward had never wanted to set a foot in this wretched land ever again. _But this is for Mother_ , he reminds himself like he has done countless times before since he had decided to come here.

He turns his head to the side and addresses Sir Emmett, "How far is the _Draoidh's_ place?"

"Another half day's ride from here, My Lord," Emmett responds.

Sir Crowley clears his throat. "My Lord, if I may? I think we should set camp here for the night and then ride on in the morning." When Edward does not answer, he adds, "This place is close to the English soil, Sire."

"Are you afraid, Sir Crowley?" Edward asks, his voice cold as ice.

"No, no, of course not."

Nodding, Edward looks around at the men he has brought with him. "Then we shall keep moving."

"Moving? My Lord, do you mean to ride all night long?"

Crowley's question makes Edward arch an eyebrow at the man. "Is that a problem?" When Crowley shakes his head, Edward says with a finality, "Then yes, Sir Crowley, we shall ride all night long. Besides, it is less likely to get attacked at night than in the light of day."

Hiding his smile at his knight's obviously distressing thoughts, he turns toward Emmett. "Lead us to the _Draoidh,_ please."

* * *

The moment he reaches the small cottage with faint wisps of smoke coming out of its chimney, a wave of nostalgia hits him. In the front, bordering the property lays a vibrant-looking garden, reminding him of his mother's beloved gardens.

"My Lord?" It is Emmett's voice that brings him out of his thoughts.

"Yes?"

He points toward the door of the house. "The entrance is through there," he says. Nodding, Edward gets off of his horse and starts to walk in that direction, prompting his men to follow his footsteps.

The first thing that registers in his mind upon entering the cottage is the lack of warmth. One look at the hearth tells him that the fire has gone out sometime ago and all that remains is the residual smoke.

He can barely take a step when Jasper holds his hand out to stop him. "My Lord," he whispers, pointing his finger to one of the corners.

That is when Edward notices a slight figure huddled in a nook, hidden by the semi-darkness.

"Who is it?" Edward calls out.

A low whimpering sound is all the answer he gets before the figure turns its face toward them, showing a hint of golden-colored hair.

"Rose!" Emmett cries out before rushing past Jasper. He kneels beside the figure and takes its hand. Turning toward Edward, he says, "My Lord, this is Rose Maitland, she is the _Draoidh_ 's helper."

Edward steps forward then, walking toward the apparently distraught woman. "Rose," he addresses her. "I am the Duke of Carlisle. Can you tell me where your friend is?"

The mention of the _Draoidh_ seems to make her sob more earnestly as she hides her face in Emmett's chest.

"Rose, please," Emmett implores her. "My liege is in terrible need of her services. Help us."

Something in his voice seems to soothe the woman, and finally looking up, she answers, "They took her away."

"What do you mean?"

At Edward's question, she looks up. She wipes away at her tears and says, "Mistress Isabella is a good woman. She is not a witch. But the priest does not like that she helps people in suffering. He has accused her of witchcraft. The Laird's men came and took her away."

Edward dreads her answer as he asks, "Where did they take her?"

"To be burned at the stakes."

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Here's the teaser for tomorrow -**

" _ **He fears that Father Aro will hold him in contempt of the church and thus will doom his soul for eternity."**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	9. Chapter-9

**A/N: Let's see how our healer is doing, shall we? Happy reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter-9**

* * *

Castle Stirling, Scotland

* * *

"This is madness!" she cries out, looking at Laird MacCallum. "Laird, you know me. I am not a witch!"

"That is exactly what a witch would say," Father Aro insists. "I have been told that people call you 'Draoidh', so you must be a witch." He turns back to the Laird and adds, "My Laird, this woman and her mother before her has been known to magically heal every disease. How can any mere mortal do that? How can anyone but a witch interfere with God's decree?"

Isabella glares at the priest. "That is just bollocks! Have you gone daft, Father Aro? Can you not understand that some herbs have healing properties? I do not have a hand in what anyone calls me, but I assure you, what I do is based on science. I do not have any magical powers. I am just a healer."

"What blasphemy!" Father Aro roars, pointing to her. "My Laird, do you see how she disrespects a man of the cloth before you? Even her tongue is that of the Devil himself."

Graham MacCallum holds his hand up to ask for silence. "Now, now, Isabella," he addresses the woman writhing against the bindings around her wrists. "There is no need for using such language."

Isabella looks beseechingly at him. "My Laird, please, you knew my mother. You know how she served the men in your clan to ease their sufferings. I am merely a follower of her footsteps. I am a healer and that is all."

"Liar!" Father Aro growls, halting her speech. "You prevented Janie MacCallum from feeling the pain of birthing. That, in itself, is a dire sin. I have been told that you have been teaching your sorcery to Rose Maitland, Janie's sister."

Isabella casts a disbelieving glare at the old priest. "So it is a sin now to ease a mother's pain? How can the church condone such torment unto any of its disciples?"

"Every woman must pay for Eve's original sin, foolish girl!"

Closing her eyes, Isabella takes a deep breath, telling herself that getting hot-headed now will not help her. Turning away from the priest, she pleads, "Laird, if I am to be punished for helping others, let me face a trial at least. I will be able to provide witnesses to prove my innocence." She watches as the Laird's eyes soften, probably remembering the time her mother had helped the Laird's wife give birth.

Hope blossoms in her breast that maybe the Laird will grant her a trial, until ...

"That is preposterous! My Laird, I urge you to punish this woman. You need to set an example for your clansmen about the severity of practising the dark arts."

Father Aro's words make the softness disappear from the laird's eyes and looking straight ahead, he decrees, "The witch is to be burned at the stake at sundown on the morrow."

* * *

In the darkness, she sits with her head bent forward. Tears roll down her cheeks, unbeknownst to her. She wishes she had her mother with her. _Mama would know what to do_ , she thinks with anguish.

The irony of the situation does not escape her as she remembers it all vividly. Grasping her mother's hand as the two of them ran away through the night. They were fleeing from the superstitious people who believed her mother to be a sorceress.

After their escape to Scotland, her mother had thought that they were safe. However, she had not counted that their gifts of healing could be seen as a violation of the church.

The squeaking sound of the gate to her cell opening, brings Isabella back to the present. She looks up from her lap to find young Jacob MacCallum standing before her. "Jake?"

The lad kneels next to her and looks at her bound hands with distaste. "I am sorry, Mistress Isabella," he says. The fifteen-year-old offers her a sad smile. "My Mama used to tell me how Mistress Swan had helped her when she was birthing me. She considered your mama as her friend."

"I know," Isabella answers with a small smile. "She was heartbroken when Mama died. I remember."

Jacob nods. "I wish I could help you, Mistress, but I cannot overthrow my father's rule."

"Thank you, Jake. I appreciate that you do not want me to be burned."

Frowning at her, he says slowly, "Neither does my father. He is simply afraid of Father Aro."

"Afraid of Aro?" Isabella cannot help but scoff. "Aro is an old man, Jacob. How can the Laird fear him?"

"He fears that Father Aro will hold him in contempt of the church and thus will doom his soul for eternity."

Isabella feels a sardonic smile come over her face. "So it is not just us, the Devil's pupils, who have to dread the fearsome, all-powerful Father Aro?"

Jacob shakes his head. "I am afraid not, Mistress. I … I want to help you," he starts. "But I am not of age yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I had to learn the laws of Clan MacCallum for my studies, and there is one way you can be saved from the fire," he reveals. "If a warrior or a knight of the King were to duel to the death for your honor and win, all the claims of witchcraft against you will be proven false. It shall be considered God's decree that He wants you to be spared and hence He has made your champion victorious. However, I am not yet of age to present myself to the Laird to become a warrior."

The look of despair on his face makes Isabella smile kindly. "Do not fret, Jake. Maybe my magic will cool down the flames to help me at the last moment," she says with a wink.

On the inside, she feels her heart dropping to her stomach knowing that in no way can she be saved now.

* * *

 **A/N: Just to clarify it, Isabella was just jesting with Jacob to make him relax, she's not actually a witch. :P**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Here's the teaser for tomorrow:**

" _ **A woman has been accused of witchcraft," the soldier answers. "She is to be burned at the stake at sun down."**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	10. Chapter-10

**A/N: A quick note of thanks to LeslieE for pointing out some erroneously used terminology in the previous chapters.**

 **And to my dear readers, thank you for your support to this fic.**

* * *

 **Chapter-10**

* * *

Scotland

* * *

"My Lord!" He hears Crowley call him from behind and continues to move forward, ignoring him. "Edward, please!" The use of his given name makes him halt. Without looking back, he waits for his men to catch up to him. Upon reaching him, the knight, barely older than himself, breathes hard before speaking. "Edward, please, you need to seek counsel before you barge into a Scot's home, a Laird at that."

"Seek counsel?" Edward asks, his eyebrows forming a knot on his forehead. "From whom?"

"Us!" Crowley answers with a huff, his exasperation coming to the surface. "We are your men. You brought us here because you trust us to have your back. You cannot expect us to let you lead us to possible danger. I am asking you to see reason."

A sudden bout of rage rushes through the young Duke as he whips around to glare at his knight. "Sir Crowley," he addresses him formally, as much to remind him of his station as to maintain a control over his anger. "Do you honestly wish to let an innocent woman burn at false accusations based on a superstitious claim? Is that how your nobility directs you now?"

Obviously taken aback by his vexation, Crowley starts to stammer. "N-no, my Lord. It is not as such ..."

"Then _what_ is your meaning, Sir?" Edward asks sternly. "You feel like we should allow such evil to take place?"

"I just think, Sire, since it is not our soil, maybe we should not interfere in such matters."

Tilting his head to the side, Edward narrows his eyes at the man before him. "Careful!" he warns. "Both English and Scottish soil belong to our King. So be sure of what you mean before you speak, Sir Crowley. You would not want to commit any treachery against the King now, would you?"

His words work like magic as the knight closes his mouth and shakes his head. After a pause, he says quietly, "The gold-haired woman said the Laird's castle is that way." He points to the far east, and Edward nods in appreciation of his obedience.

* * *

By the time the small troop reaches Castle Stirling, the sun has started its descent from the mid-sky. Edward looks around at the throngs of men, women and children crowding the entrance to the castle. He locates a man dressed in the traditional garb of Scottish warriors and motions his horse toward him.

The man looks up at him, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with his hand. "Are you lost?" the man asks in Gaelic, taking in the Carlisle coat-of-arms emblazoned in his armor.

Edward thanks his father's foresight to teach him to read and write a variety of languages as a part of his training and shakes his head. "No," he answers in Gaelic. "I was hoping to get an audience with your Laird. I have some urgent business to discuss with him."

The soldier starts to shake his head vigorously. "No, no, no admittance to Castle Stirling until the burning. It is the Laird's decree."

"Burning?" Edward asks, pretending to be shocked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"A woman has been accused of witchcraft," the soldier answers. "She is to be burned at the stake at sun down."

Edward carefully lets out a breath of relief. At least she is still alive. "You said she has been _accused_ of it," he says, looking at the man before him closely. "Do you not believe her to be a witch then?"

The man looks agitated for moment before saying softly, "I do not know what to think. She has a miraculous touch to be sure, and she is a bonny lass too. She brought me back from the door of death after a fight, you know? How can you wish any ill onto such a lass?"

 _This man seems to adore her,_ Edward realizes. "Why are so many people crowding here?"

A soft smile crosses the man's face. "We all love our Little Mistress Isabella," he answers wistfully. "Every one of these men are here to give the Laird a testimony on her behalf. If only the Laird had granted her a trial ..."

"She is to be burned without even a trial?" Edward asks in shock. "So she is to accept this as her fate even though all of your clansmen believe her to be innocent?"

"Aye," he says gravely. "Jakey, the Laird's lad, had tried to get us to help her, but we cannot."

"What do you mean? Is there a way to help her then?"

"Only if a warrior agrees to fight to the death in her defense," he answers. "However, we are all oath-bound to obey our Laird. If any of us try to defend Little Mistress, we shall be looked upon as rebels."

Edward starts to think of a way to persuade the man to help him. He cannot fathom an innocent being punished like this. A sudden uproar in the amassed clanspeople makes Edward turn to look at the way everyone seems to be pointing.

He watches as two guards led by an elderly man in priest's garb haul a woman toward a stage of sorts made by wood. The woman tries to fight them off, pushing away the guards' hands as they hold onto her arms. During her struggle, she whips her head to the side, granting Edward a look at her.

Even from the distance, he can make out her deep mahogany hair framing her face. Seeing her alabaster skin and eyes flashing with anger reminds him of a long lost friend he never had. _Her name is Isabella too_ , his heart whispers in his ear. _A mere coincidence_ , his mind discourages him.

Amidst his inner turmoil, he finds himself turning to his men and saying clearly, "I will fight for her life."

* * *

 **A/N: *Rubs hands together* We're getting there, people. :)**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Here's a little teaser for tomorrow:**

 _ **Isabella watches as the handsome Englishman walks up to her. "My fair lady," he greets her. "Will you have me as your champion?"**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	11. Chapter-11

**A/N: *Cracks knuckles* Calling for a seat belt check, people. ;)**

 **Also, to those of you who are loving the teasers, thank snoopylover60 for them. Her pout won me over. :D**

* * *

 **Chapter-11**

* * *

Castle Stirling, Scotland

* * *

"Jared, do not do this," she pleads, her voice sounding hoarse from all the hours she has spent beseeching these men to see the reason.

"I canna' disobey the Laird, Mistress," the guard answers solemnly, binding her hands together with a rope. "Forgive me."

Isabella watches as Father Aro casts an enraged scowl at the poor guard and lands a blow to the back of his head. "Do not talk to the prisoner, Jared. You do not want your soul to be damned like her."

A flicker of fear crosses Jared's eyes at his words. With a last apologetic glance at Isabella, he gets down from the stage.

Father Aro tugs on the bindings fastening Isabella to the post and then whispers to her, "The Devil will take you now, you whore." Then he turns to the amassed clansmen and says in a loud voice, "Today you are here to witness the triumph of righteousness … to see those who question the sanctity of the holy church get punished for their sins. Today, you will ..."

"What if you are wrong?" A voice, clear and fearless, calls out, halting Father Aro's tirade mid-speech.

"Who dares to question God's decree?" Father Aro roars.

"Not God's decree, Father," the voice answers. "I am simply questioning _your_ judgement."

Isabella watches as the crowd parts like the "Red Sea", and a man in an English knight's attire steps forward. He raises a hand to point toward her and says, "What if you were wrong, Father? Will you be able to bring this woman back from the ashes afterwards? She does not look like a phoenix to me."

"Insolent Englishman!" the Father shouts out in anger. "You dare challenge the Church's laws?"

The knight stays unwavering in the face of the priest's ire and says in a calm voice, "I am challenging _your_ laws, Father, on behalf of this maiden."

"Do you know the meaning of this declaration?" Father Aro asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

The knight nods. "A fight to the death to prove the maiden's innocence. And if I win, you are to set her free."

Father Aro swears in Gaelic before offering him a smile. "All right then, Englishman, tell us the name of the witch's champion."

The knight takes off his helm and reveals a handsome face topped with a head full of chaotic bronze locks. He announces, "It is I, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, the Duke of Carlisle and one of His Majesty's knights."

Something about his name and title makes Isabella frown. _Why does that sound so familiar?_ she wonders.

"Felix!" Father Aro calls out, motioning for the giant of a man to come forward. "You shall have the honor of defending our church."

* * *

Isabella watches as the handsome Englishman walks up to her. "My fair lady," he greets her. "Will you have me as your champion?"

"Why?" she cannot help but ask.

"Because I do not believe in the superstitious babble," he answers with a mild shrug of his shoulder.

Despite the situation at hand, Isabella feels a smile tug on her lips. "Then Godspeed, your Lordship. I hope you emerge victorious, for both of our sakes."

He gives her a nod before facing Felix. Both warriors draw their swords at the ready waiting for the signal to begin.

"Toisich!" At the word from the Laird, the warriors step forward, their swords clashing in the middle.

Isabella watches as the fight ensues, blow after blow landing on each man. Felix tries to charge forward at his opponent, but Isabella's knight, being slighter than him, moves like a lithe animal and avoids his blade. Then he turns around and aims a kick at Felix's back, making the larger man stumble and lose his footing.

The crowd watches as Edward keeps moving, tiring out Felix and raising his ire. Felix's face turns red; he starts to let out groans with each of his blows. Edward seems to seize the opportunity and lands a deep gash on Felix's arm, making him cry out in pain.

Isabella closes her eyes, silently praying to God to help the foreign warrior in his fight for the truth and for her life. When she opens her eyes, she sees Edward evade yet another of Felix's blows before raising his sword and striking Felix's helm with the hilt. Felix's large frame sways for a moment before falling at Edward's feet with a ground-shaking thump.

Edward holds his sword at Felix's throat. "Yield or die!" he warns.

Breathing hard, Felix holds his hands up in a show of surrender. "I yield to ye, Englishman. Spare me please."

Edward lifts his sword and offers his hand to Felix, helping him up before taking his helm off and facing the Laird. "Laird MacCallum, I detest taking the lives of innocents. As Felix has yielded the victory to me, I suggest you proclaim the victor."

Amidst cheers from the crowd, the Laird says, "I declare you, Lord Edward Cullen, as the victor of this duel. Henceforth, I order Mistress Isabella to be released."

Jared comes forth with a wide smile on his face and starts to unbind Isabella. "I am right thankful to the Englishman for saving ye, Mistress," he says.

Isabella starts to nod when Edward turns to offer her a smile. One look at his lopsided smile with his hair all dishevelled from the fight sends a bolt of shock through her. When she watches him turn back to the crowd, thanking them for their cheering, she grasps Jared's arm tightly. "Jared, will you please take me to my home? I do not feel so good."

"Of course, Mistress," the man agrees readily, a worry line appearing on his face. "I would wager you need some rest after this ordeal."

As Isabella allows Jared to lead her away from the crowd, she glances back at the man who had put his life at stake for her sake.

 _Forgive me, Edward,_ she pleads silently.

* * *

 **A/N: Why did she leave? Hit me with your theories and review. ;)**

 **Oh and according to google, 'Toisich** ' **means 'Begin' in Scottish Gaelic.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **Here's the teaser for tomorrow:**

" _ **Call me Isabella please, sire," the maiden mumbles before looking at his eyes. "Do you know much about me, Lord Cullen?"**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	12. Chapter-12

**A/N: I know you have questions. Read on and you'll find what you've been waiting for. ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter-12**

* * *

Laird MacCallum finally seems to have accumulated the courage to stand up to the churlish priest, Father Aro. Edward watches as he chastises him for creating a mayhem without fully investigating the facts.

Jasper and Emmett join him, patting him on the back with matching smiles on their faces. "My Lord," Emmett says with a grin. "You fought valiantly. He did not stand a chance of winning against you."

"Thank you, my friends," Edward answers humbly. "I am glad we did not have to witness any deaths today ..."

"But where is the fair maiden?" Edward is stopped mid-speech by a sudden gasp from Sir Crowley. He turns around to find the binding post empty with no Isabella in sight. "Maybe she _is_ a witch," Crowley says, his eyes as wide as saucers. "How else could she have vanished into thin air?"

Aiming a stern look at his knight, Edward chides him, "Sir Crowley, stop talking nonsense. She is incapable of vanishing because if she could perform such a feat, why would she have allowed herself to be nearly burned to ashes?"

"Maybe she was putting on an act …?"

"Sir!"

Thankfully for Edward, Crowley is stopped from completing his maddening insinuations when a youth of about fifteen or so years appears to be pushing his way through the crowd toward them. "Sir knight!" the lad calls out to him.

"Yes?"

The lad comes to stand before Edward and bows deeply to him. "Lord Cullen," he greets Edward formally. "I wish to thank you for saving Mistress Isabella's life. She has been like a sister to me for as long as I can remember," he says.

Edward offers him a slight smile. "Well, if you must, thank this person named 'Jakey'. I would not have learned about this duel if he had not told the soldiers about it."

The youth looks mighty proud of himself as he says with a grin, "I am 'Jakey', Sir. Jacob MacCallum is the name."

Edward holds his hand out for the lad to shake then. "You have a good heart, my young friend," he says appreciatively. "However, it seems the one who _should_ be thanking me is nowhere to be seen."

Jacob starts to shake his head vehemently. "No, no, Lord Cullen, Mistress Isabella is a good woman. She would not have left without thanking you if she was feeling well. I saw her asking Jared to take her home. This ordeal must have been trying for her, you see?"

Feeling slightly uplifted that she had not left because she was ungrateful, Edward bids Jacob farewell, taking his leave to go on an errand.

The errand that had brought him to this blasted land in the first place.

* * *

This time, Edward leaves his men a slight distance away from the cottage before approaching it alone. He knocks softly on the door, waiting to see whether Jacob was right and Isabella left because she was tired or she was trying to avoid him.

The door opens a sliver and Rose Maitland's golden locks peek through it before she holds the door ajar and drops into a deep bow. "Lord Cullen, you are here!" she says, her eyes looking past Edward.

Realizing that she might be looking for Emmett who had admitted to have taken a fancy to her, he smiles at the woman. "May I have a word with Mistress Isabella, Miss Rose?" When she nods and steps away to admit him, he adds, "Also, if you may be so kind, I think my men are in need of a drink please."

"Of course, my Lord," the woman says before flitting out of the house to attend to the men.

Edward barely manages to take a step through the door when a sweet voice greets him. "Lord Cullen, I apologize for leaving so suddenly. You must think I am a horribly ungrateful wench."

"Mistress Isabella," Edward greets her back with a slight bow. "I admit myself taken aback by your sudden departure."

From her chair in the corner of the room, Isabella stands up and curtsies. "I am sorry, sir. I did not wish to make you think ill of me after you put your life at stake to save mine. It simply is that I am not used to expecting kindness from the English."

Edward frowns at her words. "Whatever do you mean, Mistress?"

"Call me Isabella please, Sire," the maiden mumbles before looking at his eyes. "Do you know much about me, Lord Cullen?"

Edward shakes his head in a silent answer.

"My parents were outcasts in their societies, sir," she starts, staring unseeingly at the fire burning in the hearth. "My grandfather casted my mama out of his house for she had fallen in love with a man from an enemy clan ... my father. My papa was a good man. He did not desert my mama after she fell pregnant with me. He married her, and they sought refuge in England."

 _So she did live in England,_ Edward realizes. _Can she be my Isabella?_

Isabella continues speaking, her voice getting heavier with memories. "My papa worked as a blacksmith there until he fell ill and died, leaving my mama to raise me alone. My mama was good in herbology. She knew how to use herbs to treat ailments. She tried to use them to save lives in exchange for money. But then one day, an English woman came asking her to help her get rid of a child. Mama told her that her pregnancy was past the point where it would not harm her. So she refused to kill that babe. Do you know what that woman did then, Lord Cullen?" she asks, looking back at him.

"What?" Edward asks back, already dreading the answer.

"That woman told the village people that my mama was a sorceress. I can still remember those burning torches chasing us as mama and I fled through the country borders."

In a barely audible voice, Edward asks again, "Then what happened?"

"We came here. Laird MacCallum's wife was mama's friend. Mama had helped her with the birthing of her bairn long ago, and the Laird allowed us to stay in his lands as a show of his gratitude." Isabella wipes away the teardrops running down her cheeks and then raises her eyes to Edward's. "That is what I remember of England, Lord Cullen. So forgive me for being apprehensive."

As if coming out of a trance, Edward steps toward her, stopping just in front of her. "I understand, Isabella. However, may I tell you what _I_ remember?" He does not wait for her answer before beginning to speak. "I remember a little brown-haired girl playing in my mother's gardens. I remember wanting to be her friend. I remember a promise she gave me of a tomorrow." He watches as her eyes well up with unshed tears and he reaches out to touch one of her cheeks with the back of his fingers. _My Isabella_ , he thinks, feeling a burden of loss lift from his heart.

"I came here in search of a cure for my ailing mother, but I never knew I would end up finding you, Isabella. I apologize for what my kinsmen had done to you and your mother. I promise to protect you against all those evil people. Will you please come and help cure my mother?"

For a long moment the pair looks at each other before a soft whisper escapes Isabella's lips. "Yes."

* * *

 **A/N: Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Here's the teaser for tomorrow:**

 _ **For a moment, silence prevails before Edward hears his mother murmur audibly, "Who knew healers could be such tyrants?"**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Oh and I just posted a tiny flash fiction on my collaborative blog with Shae Maen, ScribblerAlliance.**

 **www (-) scribbleralliance (-) wordpress (-) . (-) com**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	13. Chapter-13

**A/N: We're nearing the end of our journey, guys. Only a couple more chapters left. Thank you for the immense support you've shown me with this story.**

 **FangirlinGranma Dee, thank you for being the relentless beta you are.**

* * *

 **Chapter-13**

* * *

Carlisle Castle, Two Months Later

* * *

"My dear, it smells horrid! What is it?" He hears her ask loudly.

"Garlic and mint tea, Duchess," a soft voice responds.

"But you cannot possibly want me to drink that? That does not smell very appetizing. Besides, I feel much better now."

"It is your medicine, not a beverage. Now come on and drink it all. You need to be all better soon."

Duchess Esme tries to protest faintly again, "But ..."

"Duchess," Isabella counters. "You are my patient, and that makes me in charge of what you eat and drink. Now drink it while it is hot."

For a moment, silence prevails before Edward hears his mother murmur audibly, "Who knew healers could be such tyrants?"

A soft laughter from behind him startles Edward. He feels his ears redden at being caught eavesdropping and slowly turns around to face Lady Whitlock. "Lady Alice," he greets, pretending to not be embarrassed. "How are you doing?"

"Lord Cullen," she greets back with a curtsy. "I am glad to see you exercising your hearing abilities." The twinkle in her eyes makes him clear his throat before he decides to give up all pretense and sighs. "Mother sounds so much better, Alice."

Alice nods, a smile coming to her lips. "She does. Your Isabella is a miracle-worker indeed."

"M-my Isabella?" Edward asks, he feels his heartbeat quicken because he realizes that he likes how that sounded. He likes it a lot.

"Oh come now, Edward," Alice answers teasingly. "Are we not friends by now? Or rather, you are like a brother to both Jasper and I."

Edward smiles as he remembers a day long ago when the beautiful woman before him was dressed in white. "I watched you walk down the aisle as well," he says to her.

She smiles back at that. "Yes, and in the years we have known each other, how many times have you told me about your long lost friend named Isabella?" Before he can answer, she presses on. "Too many times. And I can see a light in your eyes when you are around her … just like when you used to reminisce about your old friend. This is she, am I right?"

With a resigned sigh, Edward nods. "Yes, it is she. But she will never stay, Alice. She has her friends in Scotland. She has no reason to stay here once mother is completely cured."

Alice places her hand over Edward's and gives it a slight squeeze. "Then give her a reason, brother dear. Give her a reason to stay. I know for a fact that Duchess Esme wants Isabella as a part of her family," she adds with a wink before walking past him and entering the Duchess's room.

 _A reason_ , Edward thinks as he parts the curtains lining the window and looks in on the ladies. He watches Isabella smile and greet Alice with a hug before leaning down to place a kiss on his mother's forehead lovingly.

The answer to his dilemma comes to him from that sweet gesture. _Love_

Her friends might be in Scotland, but her love will be mine, he vows to himself. He will not let his Isabella leave him again.

* * *

 **A/N: I know it's shorter than usual, but I promise an extra long chapter tomorrow. :)**

 **Also, garlic and mint tea does help with tuberculosis.**

 **Share your thoughts with me and leave a review.**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **Here's the teaser for tomorrow:**

" _ **What kind of a friend shall I be if I did not make sure of your happiness?"**_

" _ **Indeed," a voice says from behind the drape covering the doorway to Isabella's bedchamber.**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	14. Chapter-14

**A/N: I'm issuing a kleenex-warning for this chapter … just to be safe.**

 **I'm sorry for late posting. As this is the longest chapter, it took some time to be beta'd.**

 **Without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter-14**

* * *

Carlisle Castle, England, Two Weeks Later

* * *

"There you are!" Isabella looks up from her book to find Lady Alice standing at the door of the Carlisle Castle library which Lord Cullen was gracious enough to give her full access to. "I have been looking all over for you," Alice says walking toward her.

"Lady Alice," she greets, closing her book and standing up from her seat. "I am sorry. I did not think anyone would miss me amidst preparations for all the festivities of today."

Alice clucks her tongue in chastisement. "Have I not told you to call me Alice?"

"It would not be proper ..." Isabella starts.

"Then shall I start calling you Mistress Isabella again?"

At her threat, Isabella relents. "Alice then."

"Good," Alice says, offering her a satisfied smirk. "Now you do know what today's ball is for, do you not?"

"To celebrate the Duchess's recovery from the illness."

"Yes, and you, my dear, are the guest of honor," Alice reminds her.

The thought fills Isabella's heart with an unknown dread. "After this event, I shall go back to Scotland," she answers, silently adding, _Far away from Edward._

"Let us leave those thoughts for tomorrow," Alice insists. "At this moment, you need to come with me. I have just the dress for you to wear tonight. I had my seamstress, Madame Laurent, design it for you."

"Alice! You should not have," Isabella replied, horrified at the idea of what her friend's French dressmaker might have whipped up for her.

"Oh come now ... please? It will be so much fun!"

With a sigh of resignation, Isabella relents.

What is the worst that this slip of a woman can do anyway?

* * *

 _Never place a wager against Alice_ , Isabella reminds herself as she gazes into the mirror.

"What do you think?" Alice asks excitedly from behind her.

Isabella raises an eyebrow at her in the mirror and asks back, "Why do _you_ not tell me?"

Alice delightedly exclaims. "You love it."

Isabella takes in how the rich blue velvet of her gown molds itself around her bust before fanning out from her hips in a regal manner. She cannot help but allow the corners of her lips to turn upward. "I think your Madame Laurent is a very skilled artist indeed. Thank you, Alice."

Waving her words of thanks away, Alice says, "What kind of a friend shall I be if I do not make sure of your happiness?"

"Indeed," a voice says from behind the drape covering the doorway to Isabella's bedchamber.

"Rose!" Isabella gasps before rushing toward the voice. The moment she pulls back the drape, she lets out a squeal of delight.

"Isabella!" Rose calls out before throwing her arms around her friend and hugging her.

With her eyes filled with smiles, Isabella looks at her dear friend. "How did you come here?"

Rose's cheeks redden slightly as she answers, "Sir Emmett came to fetch me. With you gone, I did not have anyone else there aside from Janie. But Janie has her own family to worry about now. So I thought joining you would not be so terrible after all."

"How is Janie and her bairn?" Isabella asks. "He must have grown up a little now."

Rose nods. "They are both fine. You are right. Alec is growing up very nicely."

The clearing of a throat breaks their moment of reunion, and Isabella quickly pulls Rose toward Alice. "Rose," she says. "Please meet Lady Alice Whitlock, my friend. Alice, this is Rose Maitland."

A sparkle of recognition comes over Alice's face and she claps happily. "We are all going to be great friends."

Isabella relishes her friend's overzealousness before Rose grasps her wrist. "Oh Isabella! I have forgotten to tell you."

"What is it?"

Her mind wanders over to Jacob for a moment. _Did someone find out that he is the one who told everyone about the way to save her?_ she worries, but Rose's smile puts her at ease. "It is about Father Aro," Rose says.

"What about him?"

"Old Quil Ateara had had enough of his tongue wagging, it seems. A few days after you left, Quil's daughter, Rebecca, went into labor. Father Aro tried to stop me from helping her with what I have learned from you. I think that caused the last straw of the old man's patience to break. He, along with Jared, Brady, Embry and Seth went to the soldiers. They instigated a rebellious uproar against the Laird for letting Aro continue have his way."

"Oh no!" Isabella exclaims. "What happened then?"

"Jacob joined in with them," Rose replies happily. "Laird did not have any option other than to banish Father Aro from our parish."

Alice, who seems to have been listening in, interrupts. "What will happen to your parish then?"

"Laird MacCallum has reinstated Father Collin as the priest for our parish," Rose answers. "Aro came to us from a different clan and made all these claims of miracles he can perform to make fools of us all and make him the priest of the parish in the first place. Apparently, the best miracle he can produce is to make a huge fool of himself."

Isabella lets out a soft sigh of relief. "Father Collin is kind and believes in the use of medicines. He shall approve of my methods," she says, not knowing why the thought of going back made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

* * *

Isabella feels her cheeks hurt from smiling all evening, but she cannot seem to stop. As Sir Emmett, her dance partner for this waltz, cracks another joke about his fellow knights, she laughs heartily.

"May I cut in, please?" Edward's soft yet commanding voice asks from next to her.

"Of course," Emmett answers with a jovial grin. He bows to Isabella and parts.

With her hands placed slightly on the strong arms of the man who has been conquering almost all of Isabella's waking thoughts, she says softly, "Lord Cullen, I thank you for bringing Rose here."

Edward offers her a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement. "I thought you would appreciate having a friend with you. Besides, believe me, Sir Emmett was more than agreeable when asked to escort her here. Your friend seems to have had a rather captivating effect on mine, even from upon their first visit."

Isabella feels warmth spread across her cheeks at his insinuation. Lowering her eyes, she responds, "I was not completely without friends here." By the way his hand tightens around her waist, she realizes that he knows she means more than Alice … she means him.

"I am very pleased to hear that," he answers civilly.

The dance comes to an end, allowing Isabella the chance to step away from him before the nearness makes her head spin and she begs him to kiss her.

"Excuse me, Lord Cullen," she murmurs upon taking her leave.

Isabella finds solace in the place she always did—the gardens. She walks down the path among the herbs she had known long ago. Taking in a deep breath, she exhales. When his smell tickles her senses, along with that of the flowers and herbs, she closes her eyes. Perplexed and unable to suppress her feelings anymore, she whispers into the cold, crisp night, "Why did you come back into my life, Edward?"

"Because I could not let you go."

The sound of his voice so close to her ears and the heat of his breath caressing the back of her neck makes her turn around sharply. She feels her eyes widen in shock as the man of her dreams stands before her. "Lord Cullen!" she gasps.

He shakes his head at her, his lips pressed together. "Only Edward, Isabella," he says to her. "And what I said is true. In the ten years you have been away from me, I have not been able to forget you. Your eyes, your smile and your tears tormented me every moment I felt alone and in need of a friend."

"You should have tried harder to forget me," she responds halfheartedly. "I–I am not right for you."

"No, you are not," he says. Even though she knows him to be right, the words still hurt her heart. She shuts her eyes in an attempt to hide her pain. "You are not right for me. Rather, you are perfect for me."

His proclamation makes her eyes snap open. "What?"

He takes her hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. "My sweet Isabella, even after all these years, you still own my affections. You may not be a witch, but you surely have bewitched my heart to beat for yours. I could not tell you this when you were a healer in my employ to help my mother. Now that your duty is done, you are no longer my employee, but rather, you are my friend. You are my love, Isabella Swan."

He stops to take a breath and then drops down on one knee, making Isabella's heart stutter. He brings his other hand forth from his back and holds out a small bouquet of purple flowers. "Rosemary!" Isabella whispers.

Edward nods. "The very same. They are said to symbolize remembrance, I have been told. And with them, I want to tell you that I remember. I remember you, your smile, your friendship and ... us." Isabella feels her tears run freely down her cheeks; suddenly, the future she did not even dare to allow her heart to hope for seems to be knocking on her door.

"Isabella Swan," Edward says, his eyes focused on hers. "I promise to love you every moment of forever. Will you agree to take care of my fragile human heart and be mine forever?"

One moment. One long moment, Isabella stares into his eyes and sees the love in them … for her. And then she brings his hand holding the flowers to her lips and kisses his knuckles. "Forever," she breathes out against his skin.

Edward's blindingly beautiful smile in that moment is one of many things Isabella vows to hold in her heart forever.

* * *

 **A/N: So … thoughts?**

 **Share them with me and leave a review.**

 **We're only left with the epilogue. *Sniffles* Thanks for reading.**

 **For the last time, here's the teaser for tomorrow:**

" _ **Also, you are not a lady so do not fear the consequences of saying something like that to me."**_

 **See you tomorrow.**

 **Take care.**

 **Ann**


	15. Chapter-15: Epilogue

**A/N: This is it, people. The end of our journey with this Edward and Isabella. I hope you enjoyed this journey. For the last time … enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter-15: Epilogue**

* * *

Carlisle Castle, England, A Few Months Later

* * *

He is woken from his peacefully deep slumber by the feeling of fingers lightly playing across his skin. He tries to hide his smile as he pretends to still be asleep … until he feels teeth nipping lightly at his stomach. "Ah!" he groans, moving to lie flat on his back before opening his eyes.

The sight that greets him makes his heart stutter in his chest. With her lush brown locks draped around her like a waterfall, his wife smiles up at him. The twinkle of mischief in her eyes makes him reach out for her face. "What are you up to, love?" he asks her, his voice husky with remnants of his sleep.

His Isabella leans down to suck on the skin of his stomach before looking back at him. "I am planning to go on an adventure," his vixen answers. "Will you come with me?"

"I would not have it any other way ..." The words are barely out of his mouth when her lips descend on him, teasing, tasting and driving him into a pleasurable madness.

"Bella, please," he finds himself pleading with her. "Stop, love, I want to be inside you when it happens."

She gives him a long lick of her tongue before coming back to meet his seeking lips. "I missed this," she whispers against his collarbone.

"What?"

"Being called Bella," she answers, the redness of her blush traversing down her neck to the tops of her exposed breasts. "I like it when you call me by that name."

Her admission sends a shiver of pure male pride through his body. "You are only my Bella," he growls against her lips, caressing them with his own.

"I know it is not very ladylike to say this," she says after a heartbeat. "But I have missed you, husband. I am glad your hunting trip with the King is over."

He smirks down at his wife. "Believe me, my Bella, if I could have helped it, I would not have gone. These are some of the aspects of being the King's cousin," he responds while tracing her body with his hands. "Also, you are not a lady so do not fear the consequences of saying something like that to me."

"I am not?" she asks, clearly shocked by his words.

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You are Isabella Cullen, Duchess of Carlisle and my lovely bride. So never hesitate to let me know what you want."

"You," she pants in a breathy voice, hiding her smiling face in his chest. "You are what I want. I love you, Edward."

"As I love you, my Bella," he answers before rolling over to trap her body underneath his. As Edward joins their bodies together, he feels her arms pulling him closer to her, as if she could not stand an inch of distance between them.

The moment she cries out his name before pulling him to the abyss of pleasure with her, his heart beats erratically faster. _She loves me_ , he thinks as he slowly allows himself to fall asleep with his bewitchingly beautiful wife wrapped in his arms.

* * *

 **A/N: And ... scene! I have a few people to thank, so bear with me please.**

 **First, to Granpa H. Thank you for being one of the sweetest men I know and for giving me this opportunity to pen this story for you. I have had this plot stuck in my head for over a decade now … since I read Ivanhoe for the first time. But I couldn't find the courage to turn this plot bunny into a story. You inspired me to write this story, and for that, I'm thankful. Hope you enjoyed this little birthday present for you from your granddaughter across the world, Granpa. Love you.**

 **Second, to FangirlinGranma Dee. Thank you for always encouraging me to peruse the thesaurus, and for keeping up with my neurotic ass. You're awesome, Granma. Love you also.**

 **And third, to all my lovely readers. You have been a tremendous support to me in the duration of posting this story. You've encouraged me, picked me up with your words, reminded me why I love writing in the first place … because of you guys. So, today, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for supporting me in this endeavour of mine. You guys are my greatest achievement. Having my words read and adored from across the world is something I still cannot fathom fully. I love you, my dear readers.**

 ***Wipes away stray tears* For the last time ... share your thoughts with me and leave a review?**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **To my Revised Curriculum readers, look out for the teasers for the next chapter of RC on Facebook and Twitter tomorrow and update on Friday.**

 **Take care.**

 **Love,**

 **Ann**


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